


A Matter Of Benefit

by Andromaca



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, The Grapefruit Technique, improper use of fruit, mentions of RK900/Gavin Reed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 19:59:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16311740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromaca/pseuds/Andromaca
Summary: “Lieutenant, I've found something that may be beneficial to you.”





	A Matter Of Benefit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fshep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fshep/gifts).



> fuck you sara for making me like hankcon, and for subsequently making my brain think of hankcon while i was eating a grapefruit at dinner today. the amazing "lieutenant, i've found something that may be beneficial to you" line and the amazing title were brainstormed by the amazing aforementioned sara
> 
> it's 2:35AM please don't hate me if this sucks

Hank is a person of habit. Connor knows how little he enjoys trying out the new, the different. He tries everyday to make change seem a little less unappealing to Hank, and yet his efforts are seldom rewarded. Only rarely does Hank try a new recipe, a new restaurant, a new method of investigation, a new position in bed. Connor recalls fondly the distaste in Hank’s gaze when he first began working on the force; granted he now spends all his nights in Lieutenant’s bed, that’s nothing if not funny, but Hank will still never admit that change can be _good_ at times, despite having being proven wrong before.

“Lieutenant, I’ve found something that may be beneficial to you,” Connor says, and Hank looks up from his paperback, lowers his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and turns from where he’s laying on the bed to face Connor.

“Shoot, I’m all ears.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant. It will have to be a surprise,” Connor says, like that’s normal, and then, “Are there any open wounds on your body I should be made aware of?”

Hank cringes. “What?”

“I said, are there—”

“I heard you,” Hank interrupts, “No. I’m good.”

“Got it,” Connor says simply, “Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

“‘Night.” Weird android.

* * *

 

It’s beneficial alright, the way Connor’s hand strokes slowly over Hank’s dick, the way his fingers touch to the tip of it. Hank shouldn’t feel this good from a hand job alone, but he doesn’t have it in him to complain. He tugs at the band covering his eyes, though, and turns to Connor’s general direction. “Is this necessary, Connor?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, sorry. You’ll find out why soon enough.”

The towel under Hank’s thighs burns him a little when he shifts on the bed to fit more against Connor’s chest; he doesn’t understand why Connor got so peculiar about not making a mess today, they never had a problem with cleaning. Hank is always fine just changing the sheets after the post-orgasm high wears off.

“Okay,” Hank says, and he can’t find any more words because Connor’s teasing him, he’s teasing Hank’s nipples through his shirt and in-between his legs he caresses the inside of his thighs. Hank dares to release a moan and arch a little into Connor’s touch; that doesn’t seem to get him anywhere, and Connor simply resumes his ministrations.

The bed shifts a little — Hank is hyperaware of everything that happens around him, having a cloth covering his eyes and all heightening how he perceives stimuli from other senses — and Connor’s hands are gone from his body entirely. Hank would whine if he was needy — he isn’t, and can bear Connor being gone for a few seconds.

But seconds turn into minutes, and Hank fists his hands into the sheets under him in embarrassment at being left exposed, asks shyly, “Connor? Where the fuck are you?”

Connor’s voice comes from where Hank guesses the doorway is. “I’m here. Sorry for the wait, Lieutenant.”

“It better be worth it,” Hank mutters, with no real bite to it. Connor knows that there’s no “or else,” but he likes Hank’s harsher, more impatient side.

Hearing the dull thud of knees hitting the carpet, and feeling his legs being parted, Hank can take a wild guess — Connor’s put himself in-between his legs, and by the way his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick him, Hank can take another wild guess and say he’s about to be blown.

“Fuck…” Hank whispers, and his hand goes to tangle itself in Connor’s hair, pulling slightly when Connor puts some distance between himself and Hank’s cock. “Fuck, no, what are you doing?”

Connor smiles — Hank can’t see it, but he can hear it when he speaks — “It’s okay, Lieutenant. I’m here. Just give me a moment.”

Connor is never hasty — he’s fast, he’s bright, he doesn’t like to waste time, but he isn’t hasty. He takes Hank in his hand, and gives him a slow stroke to spread his own spit more evenly than he did with his mouth — and suddenly, Hank feels something uncomfortably warm and wet circling the tip, all of his dick. “The fuck is that?” He asks, but Connor doesn’t grace him with a response.

“I know you want to take your blindfold off, Lieutenant, but please, don’t. For me, okay?”

Hank only mutters something that sounds vaguely like an “okay” in response. Connor pats his thigh happily, and says, “Thank you, Hank, for trusting me.”

He really doesn’t have to make a blowjob romantic. Hank sighs. _Yeah, yeah_.

The _thing_ slides down Hank’s dick surprisingly easy — or unsurprisingly, really, with the way it seems to be slick with juices that pour freely from Hank’s thighs onto the towel under him — and Hank can’t complain because it feels good, because Connor is actually licking him everywhere his tongue can reach, and because it gives off a pleasant citrus smell. Hank wonders what it is and how Connor even got the idea to bring it to their bedroom in the first place — androids, go figure.

By the time Connor swallows Hank down again, the towel feels uncomfortably damp, but Hank can’t bring himself to care when Connor’s cheeks hollow around him, when Connor moans obscenely around his dick, and when fucking that _thing_ feels so much like fucking Connor. “Jesus…” Hank breathes, clenching the sheets in his hands like they’re supposed to anchor him to reality, “I like it— Jesus, I like it, you gon’ tell me what it is now?”

Connor pulls off and Hank kind of regrets asking him for an explanation, but he just says, “Take your blindfold off, now, Hank, if you like.”

Shit, he does like.

When the cloth falls to his side on the bed, Hank’s mouth is already agape, and he’s struggling to find words: Connor’s mouth is on his dick still, yes, along with a clean slice of grapefruit in some kind of mockery of a fleshlight or something. It’s appealing in a way Hank can’t quite describe, a scene he never thought he’d be presented with — not like that’s a bad thing. There are a lot of good things that make for a good surprise, and this is one of them.

“You got harder, Lieutenant. You like this.”

Hank doesn’t mean to buck his hips towards Connor. “You don’t have to say it like that, jeez. Yes— fuck— I like it. Go on, Connor.”

Even as Connor slides Hank’s dick between his lips again, his led circles a calm blue — it’s like sucking dick is his primary function or something, Connor does it without the slightest hint of distress. Hank curses. That’s really damn sexy, if you ask him.

“While performing… sexual acts is not my primary function, and I would appreciate you remember that,” Connor says, and now it’s just his hand moving the fruit up and down in agonizingly slow strokes, “I’m glad you’re feeling good, Lieutenant.” Did he say that? Hank can swear he only thought it.

 _Yeah, yeah_. Hank pats Connor’s head like he understands, but he’s got business to _get down to_ — more precisely, Hank is hard beyond belief in front of Connor’s face, and while he appreciates Connor’s smart mouth, he also appreciates it in other kinds of predicaments. Connor understands.

A stray hand finds itself in Connor’s synthetic hair again, lovingly carding through it, and then pulling harshly once Connor’s teeth graze ever so slightly over the head of Hank’s cock. “Fuck,” Hank says through gritted teeth, and his hips fly towards Connor’s open, pliant mouth, “Fuck, Connor— I’m gonna come—“

Connor pulls off abruptly. “Sorry, Lieutenant,” he says, wiping his mouth fast, and giving him an apologetic look as he says, “I crushed it.”

It takes Hank a second to realize what Connor’s talking about, but eventually his eyes travel to what stands between his legs; a mess of pulp and zest, and Hank has to look at Connor again, because how do you just crush a grapefruit like that? “I…” Connor starts, looking to elaborate, “I wasn’t expecting to become so aroused.”

Well, can Hank complain? About his android boyfriend being so eager in sucking him off he beats fruit to a pulp without meaning to?

It’s quite the turn on, actually.

“Luckily,” he continues, and one of his hands extends to the nightstand on his left to retrieve a small, plastic plate, “I came prepared.”

Pleasure builds anew, low in Hank’s stomach, once Connor slides a new slice of grapefruit over him, and before he closes his mouth around him again, Connor says, “I promise I’ll be more careful this time.”

And he is. He’s careful when his head bobs fast and deliciously and his hand moves in time with his mouth. He’s careful when he moans loud and Hank’s hold on his hair tightens. He’s careful when he opens wide and he lets Hank thrust in his mouth on his own accord, at his own pace.

Hank’s not very proud to say it doesn’t take long for him to get on the edge again, not when Connor looks so much like he’s shamelessly enjoying himself around a mouthful of Hank’s cock, not when Connor’s eyes close and he trusts Hank to take the reins. “Connor, fuck, I’m gonna come— don’t get distracted again—” Hank says, and Connor replies with a low hum and a curt nod of his head. _Go ahead_ , it means.

With the first spurt of his come, which lands on Connor’s beautiful face, Hank loses all coherency that was left in him, and with the second, he loses the ability to keep his eyes open, and all sense of awareness of his surroundings. He also loses track of how many times his dick twitches on Connor’s cheek.

He’s just very thankful Connor thought to put a towel on the bed, so he doesn’t have to change the sheets today. He genuinely doubts the post-orgasm high is going to let up soon, just this once.

* * *

“Jesus, Connor,” Hank says, when he’s regained his voice to speak, “What was that all about?”

Connor stirs a little from where he’s laying with his head on Hank’s chest, and lazily runs his hand across Hank’s stomach, across his bicep, across his forearm. “There is no particular reason,” Connor explains, “Nines forwarded me an article in an e-mail. I thought you might appreciate it. Did you not like it?”

Hank’s mouth goes dry. “I think it’s pretty obvious I did, but that’s beside the point. The hell is Nines doing sending you stuff like that?”

“He knows about us. He means well.”

Hank is undeniably uncomfortable. He shifts a little, without moving Connor from where he’s draped across him. “We interface weekly,” Connor continues, when Hank doesn’t say anything, “It’s inevitable. And I know everything about his life, too.”

Hank’s ears metaphorically perk up at that, and with a sly smile he asks, “Is it someone at the precinct?”

“Yes,” Connor answers, as earnestly as always, “But I shouldn’t say anymore.”

“So he gets to know everything about our sex life but I can’t even ask who’s his girlfriend?”

“If it makes you feel any better, Hank, his _partner_ doesn’t know anything about you, either. It’s just me and Nines exchanging information.”

Hank sighs, a little dejected, and says, “You androids and your fuckin’ secrets. We get it, you’re superior and all that — now spill it.”

Connor huffs out a laugh, but it takes him a minute to measure his words carefully. “I suppose,” he says in a whisper, “I could give you a hint or two on who Nines’ partner is. But any conjecture will be your own. And I will not speak on the matter any further.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Hank smiles.

“Well, _he_  —" Connor stresses the word suggestively, “works at the precinct. And _he_ is someone you know well.”

Hank’s mouth drops, “Fuckin’ Reed. I knew it.”

Connor laughs again, but this time he simply looks at Hank and winks, “I won’t say.”

**Author's Note:**

> heh i'm actually on twitter at [@cuteroboboy](http://twitter.com/cuteroboboy) i'm very friendly and i like to make new mutuals/friends pwease talk to me


End file.
